(Verse 1 — Africa / Europe) Morning breaks in colours I can’t name, Light spills softly on the river’s face. The Cape robin-chat greets the early day, And the English robin threads its song through garden rain. (Pre-Chorus) Hear the rhythm of the treetops, Hear the echo in the hills— Every feather holds a story, Every song a world that lives. (Chorus) Oh, the birds sing the soul of the land, From desert winds to the ocean sand. In every valley, in every wide open space, The sound of a place is the song that they make. Oh, the birds call home— And their home calls through me. (Verse 2 — Americas / Asia) The mockingbird rises where the tall grass sways, In the Amazon dusk the rufous-collared sparrow plays. Far in the East, through bamboo and rain, The Japanese bush warbler lifts its trembling refrain. (Pre-Chorus) Hear the footsteps of the seasons In the chorus as it swells— Tiny beating hearts in cadence, Ancient as the temple bells. (Chorus) Oh, the birds sing the soul of the land, From desert winds to the ocean sand. In every valley, in every wide open space, The sound of a place is the song that they make. Oh, the birds call home— And their home calls through me. (Bridge — Oceania / Arctic) Where the Australian magpie carves its warbling tune, Where the snow bunting dances with the northern moon— Across mountains, plains, and salty shores, The melody forever soars. (Final Chorus) Oh, the birds sing the soul of the land, Guiding hearts like an open hand. In every country, in every sacred space, The sound of a place is the song that they make. Oh, the birds call home— And their home calls through me.
